fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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He knew that he was being unreasonable, he knew that this wasn't fair to Steve who always put duty before everything. Bucky couldn't stop him from being who he was supposed to be, that wasn't right, and it would end up choking the life out of both of them. But just this time... just this once, he wanted to get his own way.

Relief cleared deep blue eyes and he reached out to take Steve's hand in his. Revelling in the sensation of just being able to hold hands, the feel of fingers laced with fingers and nobody yelling at them or condemning them.

"Good. I waited a hell of a long time for this, I'm not ready to give it up. But you don't have to tell Tony, he likes me better, I'll ask him as a favour."

“Story of my life, pal. Everyone likes you better,” Steve said without a hint of animosity. He hunched down a little so that he could be closer to Bucky, thumb gently brushing over the smoother skin just behind Bucky’s knuckle towards his wrist in a soothing fashion. It was surprisingly easy, all of this. There was nothing strange about how it felt, no shyness to their interaction. What, exactly, had changed? Certainly, neither of their feelings had. They could go right on being friends and add everything else to it without interruption.

And given that he had done a little more than just shout through a bullhorn the way he felt about Bucky… Well, he didn’t care now who knew or what they thought about it. Steve had never actually been one to care what anyone thought as long as he made sure he was respectful to them and got things done that needed to be done.

“I think he hates the sound of my voice.” It was sweet how clueless Steve was about the whole thing. Tony’s whole personality just clashed with Steve Rogers. There was no help for that. “I should apologize. Uh…maybe with a card.”

Bucky didn't think that Tony disliked Steve as much as he made out. He thought that he disliked how Steve made him feel about himself, highlighting all of his flaws and the shortcomings he had in being a good man. Steve was the paragon of that, a good man without being arrogant, selfless without being overly preachy, and just all round... nice. It could be galling to people who had more than a little hate for themselves.

At least Tony could reassure himself that Bucky was also a screw-up, had also killed many innocents, and could never be perfect. It's why advice from him was much more easily taken than advice from Steve.

"You can't apologise for the sound of your own voice, dummy. Just let him get over it, and leave him to me. Just, uh, maybe ask him to come and see me, I don't think I can actually get out of bed yet."

Bucky would be amazed what Steve could and had apologize for. The sound of his voice was probably a little better than it had been, considering the guy he used to be, but he could understand how his tell it like it is sort of attitude might rub someone the wrong way. He never intended to get Tony so mad at him. And he didn't understand why Tony would hold so much venom towards him instead of, say, the doppleganger of the man that facilitated his torture. It wasn't that Steve wanted Tony to hate Bruce, it was just a comparison here. They'd been through hell together. And Tony seemed to resent him for it.

Steve sighed and returned his cheek to the side of Bucky's chest, a patch that was bullet hole ridden.

"Can't get out of bed yet and you wanted to come with me to Canada? Did you expect me to wheel you down the stairs? Carry you? You could have scowled everyone into falling into a line. It really is a good thing we're sending Bruce and Tony. And I'll get him for you Buck. In an hour. Just let me stay here with you a little while."

Steve Rogers, shirking duty? That might be a first.

Bucky would have found the strength to get up and go with Steve to Canada if he'd had to, it was amazing just what he could push himself to do thanks to the Soldier training. But if he didn't have ti, then he wasn't going to, not when he hurt all over and he had Steve there to make him feel as though he would get shot fifty times more just to have this moment.

He lifted his hand and carded his fingers through blond hair gently, loving the sensation of weight as he breathed where Steve's head was. He would endure the Soldier and more for centuries just to get this. This that he thought he would never have.

"Yeah-- Yeah, an hour is fine, maybe even two, we're not gonna be there for a while."

If Steve would let him, he would try and pull him onto the little bed to hold properly.

There was no way that Bucky was getting a nearly three hundred pound muscled man larger than he was into that tiny little bed with him. So Steve just did what he could, draped wherever he safely could for Bucky's comfort. He had to admit. He liked having his hair stroked like that. And Bucky might like the way those devoted blue eyes drank him in.

Once Bucky was asleep, Steve went to find Tony, not knowing that he was also asleep. He ended up finding him tucked into this little room, curled up in a little ball, and so he did pen him a letter, short and simple, requesting his presence in the medical bay where Bucky would be waiting for him.

Groggy, Tony stared at the 'Sincerely, Your Friend Steve Rogers' signature for a long time before he pulled himself up and headed down to the infirmary with a serious case of bed head to plop in the chair still warm from the super soldier that had likely been sitting here for hours. He'd wait for Bucky to look at him before he got up the energy to scowl.

Bucky didn't sleep easily, but with Steve there and with his body in so much need of recovery, for once he slipped easily out, still holding onto Steve loosely. Luckily, he didn't wake up with the other man disentangled himself and walked away to go and find Tony.

Poor Tony would have to wait nearly an hour for Bucky to stir, groggily opening his eyes and fixing them on the engineer in the chair by his bed. A tiny smile pulled his lips up, he did actually like Tony despite everything, and he struggled to get himself into more of a seated position.

"Hey-- guess I should say thanks for saving me, huh?"

“What you owe me is an apology for all of the times you yelled at and threatened me for trying to give you a little truth,” Tony scowled, having slipped back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, a pouty and defiant child. “I thought we were friends, Barnes. Friends kiss and tell. Unless that was the first time I saw, but I doubt it. You two have been giggling like experimenting college coeds for a few days now. I’m hurt. I’m really hurt.”

And that wasn’t a lie. Tony did feel pretty hurt about the whole thing, though poor Bucky wouldn’t have any way of fixing that. Nor should he. Tony had a lifetime of flings and crushes and loves of the moment. Bucky might have had a few flings too, but this was the first real ting he’d been allowed to have and he shouldn’t apologize for that.

“Respectfully, my friend Steve Rogers said you needed to talk to me? If you’re going to tell me that you and Cap are a thing, save it. As we have already covered, I found that out myself and I’m mad at you.”

"You don't get to be mad at me for that," replied Bucky, frowning over at Tony and setting aside what he actually wanted to talk to the other man about for now. This was poisonous, whatever had got into Tony's head, and he wasn't going to have it ruin any progress he had made.

"I spent seventy years without even knowing my own name, I spent fifteen years before that in love with someone I would have been arrested for loving and terrified in case he found out. After all that, I earned some goddamn happiness, and you're not going to make me feel bad about it."

Fuck you, Stark. He thought they were friends, or at least getting there.

"I don't know if you're resentful or jealous or just mad because you're not happy and don't think the rest of the world should be either, or mad at the Asgardians and taking it out on anyone nearby, but can it. I was gonna ask you a favour as a friend, but forget it, pal."

When Tony was on a path to self-destruction, nothing could stop him. Right now, he was angry that’d he shown up. Or that he’d waited. He wasn’t angry that he helped to save Barnes, but he was pissed off that this guy was trying to make him feel bad for some ribbing. Tony didn’t interrupt Bucky, not once. He let him get it all out. But instead of apologizing, instead of telling Bucky that he was happy he finally got to have what he wanted after all of those years, Tony just pulled himself out of the chair.

No way in hell was he doing this guy a favor, so he just walked out, leaving the seat beside Bucky empty and open. Steve was no where in sight, so Tony wasn’t able to go off on the blond (though he was looking for him to do just that) and instead found that Indian fellow and Bruce laughing it up over some chart that they were making on the wall of one of the unused rooms.

The way Tony was feeling right now wasn’t uncommon for survivors of traumas. It didn’t help that he loathed himself all ready (despite appearances) and that everyone he had ever cared for either screwed him over or ended up dead.

Right now, it seemed like everyone had someone else. Bucky was right to think it was poisonous. It was as poisonous as the palladium that nearly killed him a year back and still left scars on his veins closest to his heart.

That was probably fitting.

Tony headed back to the bridge and set the coordinates for Toronto. The skiff would be there in less than an hour thanks to Asgardian technology. He was going to overcompensate for his loneliness by being brash and rescuing Canada on his own.

Tony wouldn't get as far as landing the skiff in Toronto, when they were only about fifteen minutes away, Steve tracked him down. He had been keeping his distance to let Bucky handle it, but after going back to the medical bay and finding Bucky both upset and angry over what had happened, he had no choice but to meddle. It was that or risk having Bucky get up and kill himself to try and protect his six.

Idiot. God he loved that idiot.

He stopped in the doorway to the bridge, not wanting to crowd Tony, and leaned on the jamb to look over at him. He had no idea how to approach this or why Tony seemed hell bent on hating anyone who showed the first sign of wanting to be friends with him, but it had to stop.

"Hey, Tony."

Yes, good. That was a good start, but what comes next.

"I'm sorry, pal. Whatever I've done to upset you, I swear it wasn't my intention."

This couldn't be a really real thing. Steve Rogers was like some fantasy Prince, the kind all little girls dream of. He probably had animal companions stashed away and sung songs about the love he would one day find. Tony didn't trust him, not even a little. Perfection usually was a mask for what was lurking underneath.

Even if his dad was the one that made that mask in the first place. Fuck.

He swiveled around in a chair made for someone much larger than himself and tried not to say or do anything with his face ath the 'pal.' Bucky said the same thing before dismissing him like some sort of beggar. If this constantly bombardment by the 40s Brigade kept happening, Tony was probably going to have to hang himself to be put out of his misery. And that was a shame. The world would mourn him.

But Tony was never good at keeping quiet. "The fact that you've come to apologize for literally nothing is just upsetting me more. If you'll excuse me, I have Canadians and maple syrup to liberate."

"It can't be nothing, Tony, people don't behave this way over nothing."

He was everything that some people hated. He was earnest and righteous and so keen to see the best in people and treat others kindly that he never really saw that the people around him might not live up to the same high standard. Tony couldn't hate him for literally nothing, who did that?!

"We've got off on the wrong foot, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry you've had a falling out with Bucky too, it was-- good to see him make a friend after all that's happened, I hope the two of you can work it out."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, already wishing he was back with Bucky.

"I'm not gonna stop you going down onto Canada, as long as you're in your armour, but maybe take Bruce with you?"

"Banner is busy making art projects," Tony said stiffly. "I've got this." He was trying not to start another war, he even smiled and managed not to tell Steve where to stick his Captain America leadership skills. Tony hadn't had a boss since he was in school and even then, he rebelled against authority. Being told what to do wasn't the way to handle him.

And trying to make play dates with his boyfriend was just plain weird. Tony couldn't see the good in what Steve was trying to do right now.

All he could see was meddling and self righteous control. He smiled through it so Steve would leave him alone, but his smile had cracks in it. Tony was a good liar when he wanted to be but he didn't like to put effort into causes that didn't matter to him.

Like making friends.

"Just have rooms ready. I'm seeing just over a thousand people down there in the subway."

Steve wasn't about to let Tony go down onto the planet alone. They worked in pairs or above, so there was always someone to help out if things got rough. He'd go down himself if he had to, though Bucky would probably kill him and he didn't want to refuse any request of Bucky's when the poor guy hadn't been able to make requests for so long, so he would just turn and go in search of Bruce.

An art project was not a good enough reason to beg off doing anything else.

Of course, he found out when he got there that Tony hadn't even asked Bruce for his help, and the other man was more than happy to leave the organisation in the hands of Mohinder and get ready to go down and help corral the Canadians into the skiff. He would approach the bridge just before they landed, voice deceptively mild.

"So we're a team down there today, huh? Pretty short notice."

Steve Rogers was a menace to society and should be stopped at all cost.

Tony imagined him on a wanted poster as he booted the still glitchy FRIDAY up inside the HUD of his armor. He did not flip up the face mask. He had been trying to get out of the skiff before anyone could decide that it looked cooler to march into a situation like this as a group, come to liberate the survivors. What a damned joke.

He made a show of testing the joints of his not quite repaired armor, not that he needed to, and huffed loudly. “Guess he wants to stay with tall, dark and holey,” he replied, as if Steve had been going to do this himself. It wasn’t exactly a lie. But it wasn’t quite the truth either. “I’ve got this if you want to stay. Suit of armor, see? I’ll be fine.”

"Actually, Steve told me to come with you and he's the boss, so I'll do what he says."

Bruce knew that this would wind Tony up, but that was the point right now. He needed to have a blow out and get some of this internal festering anger out, and better he do it at Bruce who knew the reasons and could take it, than vented any more of his impotent rage at people who didn't deserve it.

"Just take it slow, I'm not as fast as your armour, we can walk down to the subway tunnels where we've seen life signals."

Most of Tony knew that Bruce was pushing buttons. He respected that. On any other day, it would have gotten a laugh out of Tony, an eyeroll, and a promise to call Bruce ‘Star Spangled Banner’ from now on. The quip never came. And that anger, that growing mass of cancer festering in his gut, it just grew. Even if Tony didn’t immediately jump on the mild-mannered scientist, it was obvious in the silence that followed how bad off Tony was.

And how little he didn’t want to talk about it. Tony was used to fixing his own problems. Or drinking them away. Rhodey would have stories for Banner if he was here, and alive. Pepper would have even more, none of which would have cast Tony Stark in a positive light.

There was a nod. Just a nod. A little bob of a metal encased head. And then Tony was moving down the ramp, Iron Man clunking down to the city where the buildings had mostly been toppled but the radiation had not hit too badly yet, like in Iowa. The air was clean and safe, no where near the deadly levels gathering on the East Coast and borne by the super squad of super soldiers at their disposal.

Canadian subways were clean, nothing like their American counterparts, and Tony switched on the lights in the eyes of his mask to provide more light than the reactor could. As expected, there were sentries posted, but unlike the fear they saw with Captain America approaching, Iron Man coming for them, with a human being at his side, brought a cry of delight instead of wariness. There was no need to explain away the doubles. “Hey folks.” Tony let his mask slip up into the helmet. “Autographs later. We’ve come to rescue you. How many do we have?”

It would be the easiest rescue so far, with the most people at once. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as cathartic as Tony might have hoped. Playing savior did not negate his pain. In fact, it brought it all back up as he took the armor off when Steve Rogers took over the settling process inside the skiff and thanked him for a job well done.

For some reason, Tony felt the need to bust open Steve’s jaw. His hook, though, barely made the super soldier’s head jerk back.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Language.

Bruce knew how it was to be a festering ball of issues and anger, and it had taken him a long time to learn how to not direct that at people who didn't deserve it. Tony needed to learn that lesson and, sadly, he needed to learn it soon. If he didn't then he'd end up isolating the friends he had, and where he could have been a leader in the new community, he'd end up resented and avoided.

So he would continue the whole mission just casually pushing buttons as they got people onto the skiff and towards their new quarters, right up until Steve came over and got socked in the jaw. He looked surprised, but he didn't hit back, just sighed as if Tony were a dumb kid.

"If you have a problem with me, Tony, then be a man and tell me about it."

Bruce slipped forwards to stand almost between them, arms folded.

"Come on, Tony, we need to talk this out. Last chance."

Little Bruce, stuck between a guy half in armor and a super soldier, was almost laughable. Then again, seeing as how the guy could become literally indestructible at a moment’s notice, perhaps it wasn’t too far off having him be the mediator. They had a small audience by this point, like that sullen teenage kid from the farm house and Mohinder, who’d come to check in on Doctor Banner, but for the most part, Tony’s little breakdown was contained with the two Avengers currently staring him down.

“I’m not talking to him,” he said with more venom than he knew what to do with. Steve was just an easy target. It wasn’t his fault, exactly, it was just what he stood for, and how happy and well adjusted and patient he was that rubbed Tony the wrong way and set everything he was on edge.

He didn’t try to attack anyone again, at least, he didn’t shove Bruce despite wanting to do so. He simply worked on getting to the manual release button to set the rest of the Iron Man armor falling into various pieces before he stalked out of the bridge. Steve knew better than to follow. He did lightly rub his jaw, but it barely stung. He was just shocked by it, and maybe a little emotionally hurt. He thought he could guess what was eating Tony, but in all honesty, he hadn’t gone through it. If anything, he’d gained more than he lost. So much more.

Bruce murmured something to Steve about going to talk to Tony and went after him. He tracked down the other man in one of the small rooms, alone, and shut the door behind him as he came in so that they were private. There was probably nobody in the world who looked less like a man with anger issues, even his tone of voice was calm and not at all indicative of the things that he was talking about.

"I was raped," he said. Maybe a shocking way to start a conversation, but that's what all of this was about. That Tony had been violated into violating other people. "My Dad, between the ages of five and eight; he went to jail after that, he murdered my Mom in front of me."

These were not things that he generally shared, and they stirred up terrible feelings, but they were all controlled under the surface for now.

"I was a horrible kid for a long time, messed up by what had happened, and I took it out on the people around me. They hadn't hurt me, but I hated them anyway, because they didn't have to go through what I went through. When I saw a kid at school with a good dad, I hated him just because he had what I didn't, and he never had to go through what I did. But that wasn't right. I was turning into my Dad piece by piece, alienating all the people who cared about me. That sort of anger never goes away, you just have to find a way to direct it at the people who deserve it, because otherwise it'll destroy you and anyone who might have come to care for you."

Though he'd been expecting Banner, or maybe that soft spoken English accented Indian man to come and talk to him, he hadn't really expected those opening lines. Tony stiffened, the thought of what Bruce lived through clawing at the inside of his head. His own father was abusive, mostly neglectful, and Tony understood what it was like to see other families that seemed to genuinely love one another and be jealous.

But the specifics of Bruce's trauma eventually had Tony sagging. Bruce had admonished him for saying that Steve had it easy in captivity. And no one saw Barton moping around even if he'd gone through exactly what Tony had. So trying to explain it all without going into detail himself was going to be impossible.

He opted not to say anything to Bruce for a long while. Not about the other man's ordeal. Instead, he decided to tell him about the training moon. Just shallowly at first.

"There's a version of you working for the Asgardians. Evidently that Banner is concerned with sorting out slaves and helping the Asgardians get some new blood for their stock. The invasion? That was just a way to inject some new DNA into their herd. I guess their Banner was supposed to do the math. Like how dog breeders and horse breeders run the numbers to figure out which animals will produce the best offspring. Human beings just don't go at it when they're locked in a pen together though. So they force you to drink this stuff, and okay, in all fairness, it doesn't taste half bad. It's what it makes you need after that-- that's the problem. It's five on one after that. Whatever is in that drink, and I don't know exactly, it's like you're just mindless."

He kept using that othering word. You. Not me.

"You're mindless. And the women they bring in are mindless. A bunch of people just stand and and watch and if one woman is getting too much attention, they pull her out. Or another woman shoved her aside and-- Well what can you do, right? You want and they want it and it should be just fine in the end. But it's not fine, Banner, because it happens every few days. And then sometimes a smiling face of the only person you know shows up congratulating you on getting some poor woman pregnant and how lucky the kid is gonna be because they'll be trained right and sold to a good home."

Disassociating was just making he feel even angrier, though.

"Guess I'm a good stud. I've got at least seven buns in various ovens up there."

Bruce let Tony tell him everything that he needed to. He understood, their experiences were different, but the sort of trauma left behind was much the same, and he knew how tempting it was to disassociate from it all. Not that it was possible, not when he had to work around everyone else and their issues too.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Simple, but true.

"Nothing I say will make it any easier, and I know that when we get to the moon to rescue the others, it'll be hard. For you, for them, for everyone."

He had said all he had to say about blaming others for what wasn't their fault and he wasn't going to hammer it home. Tony had to come to that himself, and he either would or he'd finish the implosion he'd started and go down in flames.

"But you're not alone, everyone here has been through their own issues."

“You think I’m selfish.” Tony hadn’t looked at Bruce since he’d come in. “People have it worse than I do, right? Whatever happened isn’t going to effect me at all, not like it will those women, right? I should be happy that Rogers didn’t have to do it. And Barton…it’s not ruining his whole life so what’s the big deal? It’s nothing like the trauma you went through. Or what each one of these people suffered through. I know I’m being irrational, and that pisses me off too. I just want Rogers to fall down a peg for once. For once. He’s the only thing dad ever spoke about. He collected all of his stuff and told war stories and spent his whole life developing new ways to make him all over again, or to find him because he was sure that Steve was still alive somewhere.”

Once he’d started to talk, it just seemed to keep going.

“I get it, I really do. The rich kid who had everything is complaining now that he doesn’t have anything. I spent forty years happily getting my way on almost everything so boo-hoo to me, pal, right? Just go. I don’t feel the need to whip out pints of ice cream or hug it out, Banner.”

Except he did. He really wanted to hug it out and be told that he wasn’t the monster he really felt like he was. Rogers bit his own tongue off to keep from being forced to harm anyone. And Tony? Tony didn’t put up a fuss at all. His dad would have thought that typical. Once again, his unwanted son was a disappointment. It didn’t matter what that video reel said.

"Thank you, for telling me what I think," he said, tone just slightly dry. "But it's not right, because that's not what I think at all. Sure, you can be selfish in some ways, but this isn't one of them. There is no worse or better, what happened to me doesn't negate what happened to you... it's not a competition, Tony, there's not a finite amount of compassion to go around, it's infinite."

He spread his hands and remained right where he was, not giving Tony his space despite being basically asked to go.

"This kind of trauma, any kind of trauma, effects people differently. It doesn't matter how Barton is handling it, it doesn't matter how anyone else is handling it, that doesn't make your feelings less valid. Just like some of the women will cope by focusing on their kids, some will be angry, some will be scared, some will campaign for the safety of others, some will retreat. None of those are the wrong way to cope."

He hesitated a moment, before pushing on.

"But yeah, if you want my opinion, I think you owe Steve and Bucky an apology. Steve doesn't deserve your hate for not being raped or for being the guy your Dad was obsessed with, none of that was his doing, and I sure as hell think you wouldn't appreciate him judging you based on Howard. I don't know what happened with Bucky other than you argued, but he also didn't do those things to you. What I'm telling you is that anger is normal and valid, but you have to find a way to not unleash that on people who don't deserve it, or you become the bad guy. You're not the bad guy now, Tony, and I know you don't want to go down that route."

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